Confessions and Mistletoe
by Parker Joe
Summary: A Fluffy Christmas fic for Morgan/Ava. Smut.


Confessions and Mistletoe

"_Attention shoppers-the Port Charles Mall is now closing for Christmas. Please bring any items you wish to purchase to the registers. We thank you for your patronage and wish you the happiest of holiday seasons. Stores will reopen at 8 am on December 26th."_

Ava was already waiting patiently in line, having decided at the last minute to purchase Morgan the buttery soft leather jacket she'd eyed the week before. Normally the long wait would have driven her crazy. But it was Christmas Eve, and the sentimental string of carols had softened the weariness engulfing her.

So she smiled at the bored clerk ringing her out and murmured a "Merry Christmas" as she collected her receipt. Walking through the meandering stream of shoppers, she fished the keys to her BMW from her handbag. Just as she exited the double set of doors, a limo pulled up to the curb.

Ava thought nothing of it, more concerned about the combination of snow and her Jimmy Choo's as she veered around the end and headed into the parking lot.

"Need a ride?"

Startled, Ava looked up to see Morgan emerging from the backseat as a driver held the door. A shy smile of delight lit up his face seeing her astonishment.

"I have a car, thank you," she replied demurely. "And I never accept rides from handsome strangers."

"Handsome?"

Ava flushed as the boyish grin deepened and turned seductive. The combination of sweet and eager never failed to affect her. "No one's ever called you that before?"

"No one like you."

His eyes ran hotly down the length of her body. The overt possessiveness sent a chill down her spine that had nothing to do with Arctic cold fronts and plummeting temperatures. "My car-"

"That's why I thought ahead," Morgan confided, pulling the keys from her hand. "I had your assistant drive it to the garage."

"Elves are everywhere this time of year, I see."

"Santa can't do it all by himself," Morgan shrugged.

"I presume that's how you knew I was here?" Ava allowed the driver to take her bags and accepted Morgan's help into the limo. She slid over and sank against the plush cushions as Morgan took a seat and poured her a glass of bubbly.

"Santa never divulges his sources."

His hand grazed hers just a moment or two longer than necessary. Ava shook her head and smiled. This impulsive streak had its' benefits. Morgan was always excited to try something just a _little_ different. And while she'd done it in the back of a limo more than once, she wasn't about to object. Just the thought of straddling him while the car hummed powerfully all around them made her wet. She finished her drink and ran her hand possessively along the inside of his thigh. "How long do we have?"

"All night."

Ava shivered. _That_ was not an empty promise by any means. Licking her lips, she wished she's worn a different skirt. It was going to be awkward squirming out of this one in a moving vehicle.

Morgan took her hand, guiding it around his neck while he captured her lips. They parted, allowing his tongue to plunge inside as she sighed and melted against him. Hot and sweet, her kiss stirred up the raw lust inside him. Not that it was ever hard for her to do that-and she did it rather well.

But tonight he had plans. Reluctantly, he pulled away. "Babe, we don't have time."

Ava cocked an eyebrow. "I know you. There's time," she purred, running the back of her hand over the rising bulge of his pants.

It was difficult to keep his head in the game when she deliberately teased him. "I meant we have plans," he replied distractedly, as she heedlessly continued her caress.

Pressing herself against him, she pressed lightly against his sac while planting a wet kiss along his jaw. "Plans change all the time," she breathed into his ear.

Morgan's head spun; images of other times their plans "changed" ran through his mind. "I promise it'll be worth it."

Ava cocked an eyebrow at this turn of events. Morgan never turned down the opportunity. Pulling away, she sank back into the corner."And these plans are?" she asked, as he poured another flute of champagne.

"A date," he answered simply.

Clearing her throat, Ava gave him a bemused smile. "Date? I think we passed that exit a while ago."

"Guess you don't believe in Santa Claus either."

"I'm a permanent resident of the naughty list...so we don't see eye to eye."

Morgan ran a finger up her leg. "Just go with it."

His smile was infectious. Persuasive. Hot. "Do I at least get to know where we're going?"

"Now you don't like surprises?"

"I haven't had many good surprises." Ava lowered her eyes, focusing on her champagne glass. This raw openness was a new experience. Hiding who she was had become so second nature to her, it was hard to connect thoughts and feelings in an honest way. "What can I know about this grand adventure?"

"That it's gonna be fun." Morgan leaned over to kiss her hungrily, running his hand up her thigh as the car came to a stop.

Ava wound her arms around him, pulling him against her as she leaned back into the seat. If she managed to seduce him-and by the growing rigid length against her thigh, the odds were in her favor-Ava didn't think Morgan would mind very much. His tongue dueled with hers and his hand found it's way up her thigh, skimming the very edge of her panties. A satified growl rattled in his chest at the gathering dampness there.

Her hands on his fly, Ava had nearly declared victory, when a cold gust of wind interrupted them, followed by a discrete clearing of the driver's throat.

"We've arrived, sir."

"We're here," Morgan repeated in her ear, face flushed.

"Not even close." Morgan smiled as she tugged down her skirt and followed him gracefully out of the limo. "I think they're closed," she said, standing beside him on the sidewalk, looking into a darkened restaurant.

"No. We've got the place to ourselves," Morgan said, leading her to the front door. They were met by a short, balding man who ushered them inside.

"Monsieur Corinthos." He bowed slightly, taking their coats and handing them to a waiting busboy. "Bienvenue, bienvenue. J' espere que ce soir vous trouve en high spirits. De cette facon, veuillez."

Morgan shrugged, but followed the man to the table. It was beautifully set, candlelight giving the surrounding decor a romantic glaze. The host held out her chair, but Morgan brushed him aside, seating Ava himself before taking the chair across from her. "It's the best French restaurant in town," he said proudly.

"Oui, madame. Bienvenue a _Avec._"

"You haven't been here yet?" Morgan asked hopefully.

Ava shook her head. "I've wanted to."

"Good," he beamed. "They closed early for Christmas Eve. I made some arrangements with the manager. I hope you don't mind-I ordered ahead."

"Veuillez me dire quelle qu'elle soit ne pas inclure tripes ou de choucroute," Ava remarked in servicable French.

The host laughed. "No, madame."

"You speak French," Morgan said, almost reverentially.

"I know enough to get by in restaurants and galleries." Ava found herself embarrassed that she'd poked fun of him, even if he didn't understand. She'd spent so many years not giving a damn what others thought of her, she forgot how to appreciate those she had no reason to distrust. "I was just asking what you'd ordered. He didn't say."

"_Van_ something or other. The manager recommended their signature dish."

They talked easily through the courses-and by the end of the evening she couldn't recall whether the salad was warm, the soup cold, the coq au vin salty or if the top of the creme brulee cracked the way it should.

Instead she recalled every detail of the bus crash in which he'd broken his leg, his love of karate, how he met Dante who was infiltrating Sonny's organization at the time, and his love of Australia and his stepfather who lived there.

Promising to return, Ava slipped the waiter an extra tip, not wanting to embarrass Morgan as he settled the bill.

Snowflakes fluttered and swirled as they stepped outside. "The best thing is it's walking distance from the apartment," Morgan said, signalling the limo as he took Ava's hand. "Just a block over and up."

"It was delicious," Ava praised, knowing Morgan had been anxious to please her tonight. White lie or not, it had been romantic.

The driver held the door open as Morgan hesitated on the sidewalk. "Can you walk in those?" he asked, looking at her heels.

She wanted to protest. They were four inch heels. It was snowing. And December seemed colder here, she thought, as her skirt whipped around her knees. "It's only two blocks?" Morgan's smile melted away any reservations she had as the limo pulled away.

"I don't trust myself in a backseat with you," he confessed.

"I thought I was losing my touch."

"Not exactly," he laughed, shaking his head.

Ava felt like a schoolgirl, walking home in starry-eyed silence, watching fat, fluffy snowflakes fall gently to the earth. She wrapped an arm around his, leaning against his shoulder, and tried to remember the last time she'd walked in the moonlight. Or been as charmed by the effort put into going out to eat.

Morgan was awakening things in her she'd thought lost a long time ago.

It was a romantic walk, but Ava was grateful as they entered the apartment building, found the elevator and made their way to their door. Not only was it warm, but she was eager to be alone with her man.

"Close your eyes," Morgan insisted.

Ava leaned in, straightening the collar of his coat and ran her had down over his chest. "This is very sweet. But all I want to do...is get you inside and thank you for a lovely evening." Her face grew warm. What she'd thought and wanted to say was _screw your brains out_. But looking into those trusting blue eyes, the vulgarity of the phrase hit her. It sounded inappropriate. Ungrateful, even.

"Give me two minutes, and you can thank me as much as you want."

He gave her a naughty little smile, making it impossible to say no. So she closed her eyes while he led her inside.

"Keep them closed."

Ava could hear his muffled footsteps walking around; a soft, mysterious clicking and then pulsating beat from the speakers hidden around the room. Wetting her lips, she dismissed the idea of anything kinky being arranged. She had few objections where that was concerned, but Morgan was more about seduction tonight. That much was clear.

Anticipation tightened in her belly as she heard him return. "I haven't peeked once."

"I know." He stared at her. With her eyes closed, he could take it all in without the worry of looking like an idiot drooling over his first pair of boobs. Not that Ava had ever treated him that way-but he was keenly aware she had experience and a sophisication he'd never be able to match. While she insisted she'd never find him boring, he knew he needed to be more than her boy-toy, as Julian sneeringly put it.

So tonight he'd attempted to show her he could learn to be a part of her world. Maybe he'd never crave French food as much as a bacon double cheeseburger. But he wouldn't stick out like a sore thumb either.

Tossing his coat on the couch, he unbuttoned hers, sliding it off her shoulders.

"I like where this is going."

"Kiss me," he demanded, unable to ignore those full pink lips any longer.

"Why?"

"Because there's a room full of mistletoe." The lie rolled easily off his tongue. It sounded Christmasy, and he liked knowing some part of her was eager to please him. Eyes closed, her fingers rose to locate his lips, and followed them with her own. Tentative at first, she found her bearings, thrusting her tongue alongside his and coming flush against his body.

Ava sensed his pulse quicken, hot exhales of air brushing her cheek as the kiss deepened until they were breathing as one. Sightless, sensing his reactions took on a whole new meaning. His cheeks felt warm under the prickly, groomed stubble. One palm was just the slightest bit damp against her jaw, while the fingers of the other hand spread wide to cup her ass. And while the bulge at his groin grew, she could feel the muscles twitch in his abdomen.

His lips moved down to her throat, and a low, frustrated moan escaped from her lips. Reading her mind, he intercepted her hand at his waistband.

Silky eyelashes fluttered against her cheek as he whispered in her ear, "follow me." The apartment wasn't that big, in a few steps she knew he was guiding her down the hall to the bedroom. They got to the doorway, and he rested one of her hands against the frame and moved behind her, shifting her shoulders to give her a straight-forward view.

"Open your eyes."

It took her pupils a moment to adjust. Candles arrayed around the room flooded it with a soft light. There was wine chilling in a bucket of ice, a single red rose on the mantle above the gas-insert fireplace, and white faux fur rug reflecting the glow from the fake logs in the hearth.

"I have this picture in my head. You. A snowbound cabin. Skiing during the day. Nights by a roaring fire. But turns out, everything's booked over the holidays." That he couldn't afford the type of place he wanted and she deserved was an unspoken detail. "Spend Christmas with me here instead."

There was more to it. But the words stuck in his throat. What he felt was much more than he'd ever felt-_for anyone._ He didn't have to disguise who he was with her-like he had with _Her._ Ava had seen the worst of him long before they'd ever fallen into bed. He didn't need to look over his shoulder, or wonder what she was doing and who she was doing it with when he wasn't with her.

He was in love with Ava Jerome.

Telling her that? The scariest thing in the world. She deliberately kept it light on emotion and heavy on the physical between them. They _did it, hit the sheets, knocked boots, shagged, screwed, fucked _and occassionally _slept together._ But he followed her lead and never called it _making love_-he didn't want to sound like a lovesick teenage idiot. He wanted her to see him as her equal. A man she could rely on and trust.

Ava exhaled audibly. "God you are so sweet," she said, kissing him. Pulling at the shirt unbuttoning and untucking it at the same time, she wanted to feel the bare skin of his chest under her fingertips.

If Morgan couldn't say it, he could show her. He held back, letting her strip him down. Everywhere her hand touched turned hot, the touch of her lips oxygen to burn hotter. He was rock hard and aching long before her hand slid over his shaft and circled the tip with her thumb. He bit into the tender flesh of her neck, relieved when her arms wound around his neck, although the silky caress of her skirt was just as erotic as her hand had been.

Sinking to his knees, Morgan looked up into her eyes. Her breasts were heaving, her lips swollen and begging to be kissed. Those eyes fasincated him. They could be shrewd, calculating, cruel. But when she looked at him, they were kind. Honest. They told him what she couldn't say.

He ran a hand down her calf, gently removing one shoe, and then the other. Working the hook and zipper easily, the skirt drifted slowly down exposing luscious thighs and the sheer strip of lace covering her pussy. Her lips parted slightly as his lips grazed the top of her thigh, and her finger dug into his hair as his tongue traced the line from her bellybutton to the top of her panties.

The pulsating heat between her thighs turned Ava's knees to jelly. She felt weightless as Morgan teased and tormented her, shaking when he ripped the thin barrier of lace and speared his tongue against the swollen tip of her clitoris.

She rocked against him, friction-fueled sweet tension coiling inside her. Her breasts grew heavy and her nipples chaffed against her bra. Pleasure engulfed her, but she wanted more. Either he read her mind or she moaned it, because he slowly let her sink to her knees beside him, possessively exploring her mouth with the same rhythm he had at her core.

Ava was eager to wrap her legs around his waist and take him inside her. Morgan stilled her with one hand on her hip while the other loosened the buttons on her blouse one by one. It slipped from her shoulders as his lips found her collarbone.

Frustrated, Ava unhooked her bra and reveled in the feeling of her naked breasts crushed against his chest. "Morgan..." she pleaded into his ear.

He gave in to the raw urgency in her voice. They lowered onto the soft white rug together, Ava stretching out underneath him. She was slick and hot as he sank into her, her hips rising eagerly to meet his first thrust and take in as much as she could.

Deliberately, he worked his hips against hers. Her breath growing more and more ragged, fighting against savoring the rising pleasure and wanting to rush past some invisible, fulfilled finish line. Long, slow thrusts filled her, each withdrawal a necessary evil to the next exhilarating crest.

Morgan felt it overtake him, his strokes no longer timed to the rise and fall of her hips. He could feel her wavering, quivering around his cock, her hands frantically finding his ass and grinding him against her until she convulsed in a surge of rapid, hard arches slapped against his body.

He gave in then, mindlessly driving into her still quivering body. Ava's moans started to rise again, and he spurred on another orgasm as he bowed to his own, unleashed in quick succession to her eagerly plowed depths.

In the end, they spent much of the next two days just as he'd envisioned, ignoring the outside world, giving into their desires whenever and however they felt the need to do so.

But he was no closer to hearing or saying "I love you" than he'd been on Christmas Eve.

But propped up on a pillow, lying in front of the fireplace, with Ava curled up beside him, there was one thing he trusted. They both felt it.

Veuillez me dire quelle qu'elle soit ne pas inclure boyau ou de choucroute


End file.
